There is a sweet joy that comes to us through sorrow.

Where there is sorrow, there is holy ground.

Rather than calling this diary a record of my life, it's more accurate to regard it as the sum of all my tears.

Sorrow is tranquility remembered in emotion.

Grief is no more necessary when we understand death than fear is necessary when we understand flying.

Sorrow is better than laughter: for by the sadness of the countenance the heart is made better.

Joys impregnate. Sorrows bring forth.

The finer the nature, and the higher the level at which it seeks to live, the lower in grief it not only sinks but dives: it goes to weep with beggars and mountebanks, for these make the shame of being unhappy less.

There is no doubt that sorrow brings one down in the world. The aristocratic privilege of silence belongs, you soon find out, to only the happy state- or, at least, to the state when pain keeps within bounds.

When we grieve, tears and guilt get mixed together.